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Posted: Jan 3 2018, 11:13 PM
Billy had been following the shadow around for days. He trusted it. He just wished that it would occasionally stop off someplace that had internal heating. Winter was his favorite season, truth be told. It was the farthest from “summer” that he could possibly get, and he appreciated the aesthetic. He just did not like feeling uncomfortable. The wool coat and the leather gloves were a normal part of his wardrobe the moment that the temperature dropped below 40 degrees. Apparently, though, his friend did not need to worry about all of that. His friend also did not like using text messaging.
He was fairly certain that this was a test. Him and The Rev had talked on the phone before, texted before, sent each other emails, but that was all back when they were just work associates. Their relationship had been the gateway drug into everything that was to come. After their third job together, it was starting to become clear that this was more than just a business relationship. This was an interview. The first time The Rev splashed blood on Billy's face, with no warning, and he did not flip out, he was rewarded. He was told to look in the mirror. He thought it was a joke at first: a viscous one at his expense. He already had his knife out and to The Rev's neck before he (or 'it' as things would turn out) could explain. He was told to look.
His face. It had been subtle at first, but Billy knew every scar on his face like an intimate enemy. It was unmistakable. The scars were fading. Billy was never the kind of man who would openly cry, but that day with The Rev, standing in the room with their victim at their feet, he very nearly did. He was not too proud, though, to not fall to his knees. He begged. Billy Russo actually begged, longing to know how he had done it. He gripped the ends of The Rev's coat, looking up on him, pleading to this man for answers. He was given them.
Billy never looked back.
It would not take long. Soon, he did not need the bandages anymore, not because he was no longer ashamed of his face, but because his scars were all but gone. He had earned back his face. One year later, and Billy understood his new place in the world. While he did like being in charge of ANVIL, and could do it without a problem again, he often did fit in best when he knew his place in the system. He did not need to rule the world. He just need to know his place in it. One day, that could all change, but for now, he had been promised exactly what he had asked for. There was another purpose out there for him, and it was greater than anything he had ever explored. He just needed to know how to follow. Follow he did. For days. He would travel to a diner and enjoy a meal, only to see the shadow out of the corner of his eye. He knew what to do then. The next person he met would get his nicest smile. His waitress would get a generous tip, or the motorist with the flat tire would be helped by the handsome stranger. His one rule was “no children” and the shadow never tested him. By the next morning, that person was to be dead, and Billy was to follow their shadow to the next location. And then wait.
The shadow of the young man he had met in the club last night streaked through the streets of New York City. He could see it dancing in the windows, a mockery of the way he had moved in life. Billy grinned at the memories of the night before, especially those moments right before the sun came up. He followed it into Manhattan, and up to the steps of a delightfully decadent building. There, it stopped, but instead of fading away the way his other victims had in the past, it entered the building through the crack between the dual front doors. Billy was home.
He let himself in.
He stood at the front door of the atrium and took it all in. The decor was subtly infernal, and he loved it. There was a fire in the hearth that took up the center of the atrium. The double staircase wrapped around it, hugging it in a little alcove. It made the shadows curve and dance around the high walls and columns. Doorways led to a mission different places. His curiosity was peeked, but he knew better than to wander. Even though he knew in his bones and blood that this place, at least in part, belonged to him, he had manners.
“Honey” he said, as he wiped the snow from his shoes. “I'm home.”
NOTES: I am the one who knocks... and enters... because I belong here.
Posted: Mar 15 2018, 01:19 AM
The hellfire club called to many different people. Some came for the excitement and the chance to hob nob with the rich and famous and be seen, and it was true. This was the place where deals were made and broken. Lives were bartered for a chance of something better and everyone looked the other way when someone got on the wrong side of the chessboard. Few people knew what was required to become a member of the chessboard much less what was involved to go further than that. Most people stayed pawns unless they had what it took to impress the kings and queens. Given Selene and Loki’s ages people had to go to even greater lengths. Compared to them, Emma was an infant, but she never let it bother her. She knew the line and when not to cross it.
Making her way down in a white leather corset, skin tight white leather pants, and thigh high white leather boots, she paused as she noticed someone who she had never seen before, her ice blue eyes peered into the entrance way and she pulled her cloak about her with a casual ease, the white fur accenting her platinum curls and angular features to good effect. Standing off to the side, she chose to observe the newcomer. Most people paid dearly just to enter this place. It wasn’t like those tasteless clubs that were all the rage where people pretended to be better than they were. This place housed the elite. The fate of nations often was debated in these very walls as the years had gone by. Leaning on the railing she watched the young man downstairs. He had walked in acting like he belonged here, and she had to admire his confidence if nothing else. Rumors usually kept the rabble away, yet this man seemed either oblivious to the club’s reputation or he felt himself the equal of the people that graced these halls.
Casually she made her way down, the six-inch heel on her boots making no sound on the carpet under her feet. Down the staircase she traveled as cold and calculating as Scarlett O’ Hara in Gone With the Wind but with grander dreams. She already knew she would never go hungry again, but the question was what did this man hunger for? Lightly her gift went out to read the newcomer. It was time to see who had landed on their doorstep. Quietly she nodded as people passed her, never pausing in her trek down the stairs as they looped around the fireplace. “This place is home to a select few, tell me, what is it that brings you here?” the ice Queen asked of the newcomer. Her senses feeding her information even as she gave him the chilly smile of a stranger.
It would be an easy enough thing to remove him if he was wasting their time, but somehow Emma felt that there was much more to this man then his somewhat shabby appearance would indicate. Most people came here in their very best, dripping with jewels and wearing Armani and Prada in the hopes that the club was more based on shallow materialism rather than substance, but this gentleman was a different being all together. He was a puzzle.
And Emma loved a good puzzle.
((OOC: Emma is curious.I hope this post is okay. :) ))
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